


Yet Another Bakery AU

by jaradel



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel
Summary: Jack's a professional hockey player for the Providence Falconers; Bitty runs a bakery in Providence. You know how this goes.





	Yet Another Bakery AU

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com/), creator of [Check Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)
> 
> The germ of this fic started during a chat in a Capitals group DM. Many thanks to [tiptoe39](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39), [darthrami](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notmissmarple), leider_hosen, hellokyochan, endorwitch, celtic_cookie, and everyone else in our DM for the encouragement!

It's not like Bitty hasn't noticed Falconers' star forward Jack Zimmermann passing his bakery lately. If anything, he's been trying NOT to notice. Noticing leads to wondering leads to fantasizing, and if there's anything worse than falling for a straight boy, it's falling for a straight hockey player.

Bitty knows this. But he can't help but notice anyway.

It started several weeks ago, early one morning when Jack was, presumably, out for his daily run. The pre-dawn drizzle had turned into a raging downpour, and a wet and bedraggled Jack stood under the awning of Bitty's shop, waiting for it to stop. Bitty took pity on him, letting him inside the not-yet-open shop, giving him a coffee (black, no sugar - Bitty knows these things from being on social media far too much), and sternly rebuking any talk of repayment from the man dripping all over his heretofore freshly mopped floor. Bitty had gone back behind the counter to finish his morning preparations, leaving Jack to sip his coffee and wait out the storm. When both the coffee and the storm were finished, Jack apologized profusely for the wet floor, thanked Bitty for the coffee, and left before Bitty could say anything.

Of course Bitty recognized the sopping wet stranger outside his shop that morning; you can't live in Providence and not know who the Falconers are, even if you're not a hockey fan. And Bitty isn't just a hockey fan, but also a former collegiate player, so to say that he's up-to-date on the current roster of the Falconers is a bit of an understatement. He's proud that he was able to keep his cool - and his distance - while Jack Zimmermann dripped all over his floor, and if he did a little happy dance after Jack left, well, no one was around to see it anyway.

Bitty can't recall having seen Jack pass his bakery before that day, but ever since, Jack's daily run takes him past the shop, except when the team is on a roadie. Jack never stops, never turns his head to look into the shop windows, but Bitty could set his watch by Jack's running schedule. He knows to be behind the counter, where he has a perfect view of the front of the shop, by 5:43am, as Jack flies past in a blur of broad shoulders, long legs, and ugly yellow sneakers. He waits for the day that Jack will stop, will knock on the door and wait for Bitty to open it, will say Hello and introduce himself properly, so that Bitty can do the same. He waits, for days and weeks, but Jack keeps running.

Then a week comes when Bitty is down with a particularly bad bout of the flu. His assistant, Chris, covers for him while he lays in bed, surrounded by tissues and feeling sorry for himself. He wonders if Jack notices his absence, and then scolds himself for caring. _Never fall for a straight boy._

Bitty's back at work bright and early on Saturday. He's not feeling 100%, but he's feeling good enough to get by, and Chris needs a break after working consecutive 14 hour shifts. Bitty is loading up the front display case and completely forgets what time it is.

_*knock knock*_

Bitty looks up, and his mouth falls open.

Jack Zimmermann isn't running.

Jack Zimmermann is standing in front of his bakery.

Jack Zimmermann is looking _right at him_.

Bitty finally comes back to his senses and, blushing madly, scurries out from behind the counter. He unlocks the front door and throws it open with an overly cheery "Good morning!"

"Hey. Hi. Um, hello," Jack says, his voice low.

"Would you like to come in?" Bitty's stomach may be doing back flips, and he may be vibrating from head to toe, but he's still a Southern gentleman.

"You're not open yet," Jack says.

"It's my shop. You can come in if you like."

"Oh. Uh, thanks," Jack stammers, and steps into the shop, looking very out of place and slightly uncomfortable.

"Here, have a seat," Bitty says, gesturing to one of the stools at the front counter. "Can I get you anything?"

"But you're not open yet," Jack repeats, looking confused.

"Yes, but it's my shop, and if I want to serve you, then that's my choice," Bitty says.

"Oh. Right."

"Coffee?"

"Yes please. Thank you."

Bitty doesn't ask him how he takes his coffee. He pours a mug of his finest Colombian brew and slides it across the counter.

"How do you know how I like my coffee?"

Bitty feels his ears redden. "Lucky guess."

Jack smiles. It's not a big smile, not a toothy grin; it's a small smile, a private one, barely more than a twitch of his mouth, but it's definitely a smile. Bitty's heart flips in his chest.

"I'm Jack," he says, holding out his hand.

Bitty wraps his smaller hand around Jack's larger one. "Bitty."

"Bitty?"

"That's my nickname from college. Eric Bittle. Bitty."

"Eric." Jack says Bitty's name like he's trying it out, testing the feel of it in his mouth, on his tongue. He still hasn't let go of Bitty's hand.

"Jack." Bitty tries out Jack's name, and finds he quite likes how it rolls of the tongue, the click of the hard consonant at the end.

Jack squeezes Bitty's hand gently, and lets go. Bitty mourns the loss of the contact. He swears he can still feel the touch of Jack's long, slightly callused fingers on his hand.

"You weren't here this week."

Bitty swallows. "You-you noticed?"

Jack takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Bitty's face. "Of course."

Bitty is struck speechless for a moment. "But - you never look, you just run past--"

The corner of Jack's mouth quirks up. "You watch me run?"

Bitty's mouth opens and closes wordlessly, like a fish, until he notices a slight crinkling of the skin at the corners of Jack's eyes.

"Are you chirping me, Mr. Zimmermann?" Bitty says with mock exasperation.

"I would never," Jack says, solemn as the grave.

Bitty can't help it - he laughs, harder than he's laughed in a while. Jack joins in, his low chuckle a counterpoint to Bitty's higher giggle. The ice now officially broken, he and Jack converse while Bitty finishes his morning prep, mostly small talk, but the conversation is easy, comfortable. Jack gently declines a pastry - his nutritionist would have his head, he says - but he thanks Bitty for the coffee and conversation.

"Anytime," Bitty says, walking Jack to the door.

Jack smiles again, that same, private smile, and leaves, jogging away with a wave.

 

* * *

 

The Falconers leave for another roadie right after Jack's visit to the bakery. Bitty knows this; he stays up way too late watching the Falconers swing through Western Canada and the Pacific Northwest, playing Edmonton, Vancouver, Seattle, and San Jose before returning home. Games that end at 1 a.m. Eastern time make his 5 a.m. start times at the bakery extra difficult.

The morning after the Falconers beat the Sharks (much to Chris's chagrin), Bitty is in the back room checking the bakery email orders, and nearly drops his morning coffee. There's an email from jlz90@gmail.com, ordering a round two-layer chocolate cake with buttercream icing. But it's the message to be written on the cake that makes Bitty's stomach sink like a stone.

_Will you go out with me?_

_Stupid,_ Bitty chides himself. Jack was probably only getting to know him so he could order this cake for whatever girl he was trying to ask out. How did he let himself fall for a hockey player? He'd broken his own rule, he'd let himself imagine, for just a moment, that Jack Zimmermann, a god among hockey players, could possibly be interested in men, let alone someone like Bitty. He sinks down in his chair, checking the requested date for the cake.

Today, by noon.

Bitty sets his mug down. He rests his elbows on the desk, scrubbing his hands through his hair, and takes a few shuddering breaths. _Get it together, Bittle. Do your job._ He prints out the email order and gets to work.

Bitty's waiting at the counter at noon when he sees Jack at the door. His pulse quickens, but he tamps down his nerves. _He's a customer, just like any other customer._ Jack comes in, smiling that soft, private smile that makes Bitty's heart flutter in his chest, and oh God, this hurts more than he thought it would.

"Hi there, what can I do for you today?"

"Hi, Bittle. I, uh, I'm here to pick up my order."

"Chocolate cake with buttercream icing?"

"Yeah." Jack's blushing, and Bitty bites the inside of his cheek. _Not for you._

"I'll be right back." Bitty practically flees into the kitchen, taking several steadying breaths. He's selling a fucking _cake_ , this shouldn't be that difficult.

Bitty opens the refrigerator and takes the cake out, perfectly packaged in a windowed cake box. He did his very best work; if _he_ can't have Jack Zimmermann, then he hopes that the lucky lady getting this cake appreciates his craftsmanship.

Bitty carries it out and sets it on the counter in front of Jack. "That'll be $21.34," he says, punching the order into the computer, avoiding Jack's gaze.

"This is very nice, Bittle. Did you do the decoration?"

"I did." _I hope she likes it,_ he thinks but does not say.

Jack says nothing more, just hands over his card for payment. They finish the transaction and Jack signs the receipt, handing it back to Bitty, and picks up his cake.

"Ah, what time is your shift over?" Jack asks.

Bitty blinks. Of questions that Jack Zimmermann could ask him, this was not one that he expected. "Uh, three o'clock," he replies warily.

Jack nods. "Right. Well, see you soon, Bittle."

"Enjoy your cake," Bitty says, pasting on a smile.

After Jack leaves, Bitty flees to the bathroom, where he has a quick, quiet cry. Life is unfair sometimes, but this is no surprise to Bitty. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair, steadies himself, and goes back to work.

At three, Bitty goes over the afternoon schedule with Chris, then hangs up his apron in the back, puts on his jacket, grabs his messenger bag, and leaves out the front door.

And stops in his tracks.

Jack Zimmermann is there, holding the cake box, almost like he'd never left.

"Jack! Hi, uh, is there something wrong with the cake? I'm heading home but I'm sure Chris can take care of it--"

Jack shuffles from foot to foot, still holding the cake like it is a delicate piece of china. "I - uh - this didn't go the way I planned," he stammers.

Bitty is thoroughly confused. Did Jack's...intended recipient not like it? "How do you mean?"

Jack looks down at the cake, then up at Bitty. "Uh, I ordered this. So I could give it. To you."

Bitty isn't sure he heard right. "You ordered a cake...from my bakery...so you could give it...to me."

"Yes."

"You _paid_ me to make a cake that says "Will you go out with me" so you could give it...to me."

"Yes."

Bitty stands there, staring at Jack, while Jack's face gets progressively redder with embarrassment.

"Oh, you _fool_."

Jack blinks. "Sorry?"

Bitty laughs, all of his sadness and tension evaporating into giggles. "You silly boy, of _course_ I'll go out with you!"

Jack smiles then, not a private smile, but a wide grin, his whole body visibly relaxing. "Oh thank God," he says. "You looked so upset when I picked this up."

"I thought you were going to give it to someone else!" Bitty says, incredulous.

"I guess I didn't think it through very well. I thought you'd understand when you got the order."

"Well, it didn't have my name on it, did it?" Bitty says accusingly, but grinning madly.

Jack looks properly chastened. "I guess that would have been better, eh?"

Bitty smiles. He takes the cake from Jack, who looks relieved to finally be handing it over. "Why don't you drive me home and we'll talk about it. Over cake."

Jack smiles. "Thought you'd never ask."


End file.
